Going Home
by Cover Girl
Summary: Lady Jaye's past finally catches up with her. WIP
1. Default Chapter

_**GOING HOME**_

_**Author: Cover Girl**_

_**Rating: PG-13**_

_**Chapter 1/?  
**_

_Disclaimers: GI Joe and Cobra are the property of Hasbro, Marvel, Sunbow, and Devils Due Publishing. This is purely fiction. Please read and review, flames will only lead to 'smores_

_Author's Note: Thanks to Annie O, Roguedoll, and Beck for reading this for me. This is a rewrite of a work in progress. I took some time off from writing and came back to it with a fresh eye and a need to develop more of the plot._

* * *

_**Chapter One The Runaway Bride**_

"This is a disaster," Alison mumbled to herself, unable to shake the feeling that this was not going to be the happiest day of her life. Her eyes drifted to the heavy, ornately carved mahogany mirror standing across from her, wondering, **"**Why?" even though she already knew the answer.

"Mademoiselle, please?" Alison felt the seamstress' hands, guiding her waist to turn from behind and complied but not before looking back at herself in the mirror. She was reminded of the importance of this marriage right down to the last minute detail. Her mother had made sure that everything, including the gown, was handled to perfection. The gown itself had been designed as a one of a kind original. A white, duchess, satin gown with its fitted bodice carefully embroidered with pearls overtop lace; the fitted sleeves were slightly off the shoulders and the full skirt of the gown delicately embroidered as well. Her mother had allowed Alison's request not to have a train dragging along after her. She wanted her daughter's beauty to shine through to all in attendance.

Alison's long auburn hair was done up in a French twist accented with a few diamond and pearl studded hairpins to hold it in place. A few tendrils had been carefully loosened and curled to frame her face; her make-up meticulously, yet, lightly applied for a natural effect with just a touch of color added. The effect was simply stunning. Absent-mindedly, she smoothed the folds of her gown with nervous hands. "Why?" echoed in her mind once more.

She watched her bridesmaids fussing over each other's gowns. Each bridesmaid wore a soft lilac chiffon gown with the short cap sleeves resting off their shoulders, their only jewelry, a single strand of pearls as her gift to each. She smiled sadly and shook her head. She had to put a stop to this. She had to.

"All of you look beautiful." She heard her mother's voice and looked towards the doorway. Dressed in a cream gown with a shawl collar, Ellen Hart-Burnett stood poised, almost regal, looking onward to the young women with her warm brown eyes, a striking contrast to her daughter's cool green. Alison watched her mother reach up with her fingers and pat her own auburn hair back into place, a sure give away that her mother was also nervous. Could she sway her mother's mind? Could she put a stop to this, now?

"Excuse me," she said, pushing past Melissa, her maid of honor. "Mother?"

The other women stopped what they were doing, curiosity urging their undivided attention. Ellen raised a dismissive brow towards the others in the room, willing them to fall back and remain silent.

"Alison, you look exquisite." Her mother replied, carefully studying her before turning back to the others in the room. "Could you, please, excuse us?" She commanded more than requested with her chin held high, nodding towards the door. Pausing until the last bridesmaid had exited the room, she walked to the vanity, lifting Alison's short bridal veil from the table. "Alison," she chided her gently, "you shouldn't simply toss this to the side. What's the matter, dear?" Ellen gingerly coifed the veil, arranging it as it fell in her hands. "Sit down." She waved her free hand over in a roll, gesturing towards the vanity's bench.

"I can't go through with this, mother," Alison cried, taking her seat.

"Tsk...tsk...it's a simple case of last minute jitters," her mother reassured her, lifting the veil up to pin in her hair.

Alison closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. "I don't love him. You know I don't love him." She slowly opened her eyes to see her mother's pursed lips and instinctively braced for a lecture. The older woman relaxed her expression, turning her lips inward and releasing them along with a weary sigh.

"Now, Alison, you know how your father and I have planned for this day," Ellen started.

"You're not the one marrying him," Alison quickly interrupted. "I can't marry him." She abruptly stood from the vanity and walked towards the window where she pulled the edge of her drapes back to gaze out over the garden below, taking in the richness of the summer blooms below. She searched within for the strength to tell her mother she couldn't, no she wouldn't go through with the ceremony.

"Alison, this is a wonderful match. Don't be foolish." Ellen pleaded, resting her fingertips on her daughter's shoulders from behind.

Alison lowered her eyes and turned to face her mother. She was still searching. It wasn't an easy task to tell her mother 'no', not with her upbringing. Unable to find the words, she reluctantly nodded her head.

"That's my girl." Ellen smiled, placing her hand beneath her chin. "I'll send the others back to you. We must not keep the Shephards waiting."

She watched her mother cross the room towards the door as she found the words, ready to argue one last time and faltered. Her mother would never understand. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear?" Ellen paused, reaching for the door.

"I can finish dressing myself. Could I have a few moments, please?" She forced a smiled and stepped back to the window.

"Yes, of course." Ellen smiled and left, leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Alison pulled the drapes back and looked out past the garden to the sea beyond the garden's iron gates. The calm serenity of the sea pacified her. She could see sails in the distance and couldn't help but wish she was out there instead of here in her room, getting ready to marry him, her parent's choice, not her's. She found herself lost in her thoughts, recalling the events leading up to this moment. She laughed and dropped the drapes back into place before walking over to the mirror to study her appearance, all the while mocking herself. She raised her fingertips to her cheek, tracing them over her jaw while she searched for a valid reason.

"If only you'd put a stop to this that Christmas, you wouldn't be here now. Would you?" She asked her self and snarled. "Well?"

_Christmas, Senior Year, Bryn Mawr_

The party had been in full swing when her father had returned from his library with Nathan and Michael Shepard in tow. The three of them were laughing as her father slapped Michael on the shoulder and pulled him closer. It wasn't unusual to see the three of them together especially since Michael had just started working for her father in his New York office. The Shepards were usually found in attendance at her mother's parties and she'd grown up with Michael.

Jonathan Hart-Burnett had pulled her to the side, murmuring in her ear, "Alison, you know your mother and I have always looked to your best interests". Alison knew from experience that she was not going to like what was coming next. "You'll be graduating this summer. We thought it's about time you started to consider settling yourself down and helping your mother with her charity work."

"Dad, I told you before I want to go to Trinity and work on my masters. If this is about Michael again, the answer is still no. You've been shoving him at me since I was 17." She fumed, ready to walk away when her father replied. "Alison, your mother and I have always looked to your best interests. We believe Michael is best for you."

"Well I don't..."

"Alison, think of the family, besides most of the girls you went to school with are already engaged or married," he began.

"Dad, the family and the business are in great shape besides I don't want..."

"Alison, if I agree to let you go to Trinity, will you at least think about this?" He offered a compromise.

To get her father to drop the subject she relented. "Yes, I'll think about it."

If she had known what was to happen at the end of the evening, she never would have agreed. Jonathan and Ellen Hart-Burnett along with Nathan and Jessica Shepard called everyone's attention as they made their Christmas toasts to those at the party. Lifting his glass Jonathan toasted, "We would like to wish all of you a Merry Christmas, and would like for you to share our joy in announcing the engagement of our beautiful daughter, Alison, to Michael Shepard..."

Alison blanched unable to react as the shock settled in on her. She was oblivious to the guests clapping and cheering. Michael who had been standing near her came to join her, presenting a beautiful, flawless, 2-carat diamond solitaire. She found herself going through the motions while he slipped the ring on her finger. She some how managed to keep from flinching when Michael pulled her into a kiss to appease the taunts from the younger set. Crediting years of self-discipline, she suppressed her anger from the prying eyes of their guests. Her father had staged this well knowing she'd never embarrass the family in front of this gathering.

After the party, when all of the guests and the Shepards had left. Alison exploded. "How could you do this to me? I said I would think about this, I never agreed to..."

"You will do exactly as I tell you, Alison. Trust me, it's for the best." He dismissed any further discussion and turned away to pour himself a glass of brandy, leaving her frightfully aware that he was unwilling to listen.

That argument had been the first of many. She had even tried to send the ring back to Michael but her parents stopped the courier and placed the ring in their safe when she refused to wear it back to school. Alison returned to school to complete her Bachelors of Arts in Theater and Minor in International Studies before going off to Trinity as planned. She was so angry she didn't come home for the next two years and avoided Michael at every opportunity.

It was during this time that she met another master's candidate student by the name of Scott Mullens in her applied linguistics classes. Like her, he was another American studying abroad; however, unlike her, he was a CIA operative sent abroad to develop Intel sources and infiltrate a questionable student organization with alleged links to the IRA. When his supervisors learned that the Hart-Burnett heiress was also at Trinity, he was ordered to gain her confidence and keep an eye on her.

Initially, it seemed a strange twist of fate when she kept running into him outside of class. Only, now, could she laugh at the initial awkwardness of their first meeting. He had approached her in need of assistance with translating a Gaelic text assigned for one of their classes.

Scott and Alison struck up an easy friendship, talking about their different backgrounds. She learned that he had graduated with a Bachelor's in Political Science from Georgetown and wanted to join the State Department some day while he eagerly became a sounding board for her problems with Michael.

She wistfully smiled to herself as she recalled the night he suggested she become a linguist for the government.

"You know, Allie, you should seriously consider becoming a linguist for the government." Scott had joked one evening she had asked him for assistance by accompanying her to a formal dinner being thrown by an old family friend in London. The guest list had read like a 'who's who' of European society and he had watched in awe as she conversed with several other guests, easily switching languages and matching dialects. "Why if I didn't know, I'd have pegged you for a French national, or a Russian...then again with your talents you could fool any one in nine different countries." He had complimented her with a winked and offered her his arm as he led her onto the dance floor.

"Sure, Scott." She gave him a dismissive laugh as she slipped her arm through his. She was prepared to follow his lead when he stopped. He caught sight of two men he had been told would be present entering through the ball room's main doors and heading for the terrace. They were a plant to test her skills. The CIA had developed a keen interest in her talents from his observations. "Seriously, Alison, what could you tell me about those two characters?" He nodded to the pair over his shoulder as they passed.

"Scott, I'm not going to…"

"Just for fun. What are they speaking? Whatever it is, it looks interesting." He raised a quizzical eyebrow, challenging her. The taller of the two men was more animated, gesturing his hands wildly at times to emphasis a point while the shorter man appeared to have little interest in his arguments. They lingered by the terrace doors for a moment before slipping outside.

"This is a piece of cake for you. Come on?" Scott plucked the last glass of champagne glass from a tray of a passing waiter and pressed the stem gently into her hands. "I'll fetch a glass for myself and meet you on the terrace." He smoothly suggested, gliding her around to face the doors ahead. "Now, don't get yourself caught." He whispered softly so that only she could her and fell back.

"S..cott…" She stammered, realizing he was nowhere to be seen when she turned back to face him. She released an exasperated sigh before casually wandering over to the terrace.

Certain false information was to be planted by the pair and the CIA wanted to know if Alison could pick up the information accurately.

Scott silently observed her wait outside the doors. She was smiling and making small chat with a few of the other guests, waiting for an opportunity to slip outside undetected. She locked eyes with him as he casually tipped his champagne glass towards her and turned to respond to another guest.

"Men." She snorted under her breath. 'Fine, we'll see." She muttered to herself and slipped outside.

Alison carefully strolled along stone railings of the terrace, appearing to others to be aimlessly wandering, stopping here and there. She slowly sipped her glass of champagne as she stopped to gaze out across the illuminated, topiary gardens below her. She smiled to herself above the rim of her glass and carefully listened to the two men. The taller man was rambling on and on in French about something he was sure the shorter man had to have and cringing inwardly. The man was an impossible fraud.

Alison shook her head and dismissed the rest of the conversation before the sound of voices below drifted up to her. Two other men were in the shadows below discussing a business deal. One voice in particular caught her ear, a deep rich Scottish burr resonated upwards. His tone and inflections reminded her of one of her professors who was from Aberdeen, Scotland. The other man spoke with an Australian accent. She stepped back away from the rail, chiding herself not to listen but the entreating voice beckoned her to. The sudden peal of laughter from a young couple returning from the topiary gardens prompted the men to switch from English to French. She couldn't see either man. She fell back to the shadows and listened intently.

She glanced towards the doors of the terrace for Scott a few times and didn't see him. The strains of music playing inside drifted out, filling the night air and calming her nerves as she watched the pair below her. From her vantage point above, she was hidden from them.

Alison finally heard the men close their business deal and panicked for a brief moment when one of the men started to climb the terrace stairs. "Major," she heard the Scottish man call out to him and heard him stop. She prayed a silent 'thank you' and stepped away from her hiding spot but not before catching a glimpse of the Major standing below her. The Scottish man reached for his cell phone and placed a call while the Major glanced up towards the top of the stairs to his left to watch a couple at the top. His had slipped inside his jacket for a cigarette case. She watched him light up and noticed he had his head angled towards the stairs, watching the couple. If he was distracted, she could slip away, and with a pent up sigh, she did just that.

"Alison, I've been looking for you everywhere." Scott smiled warmly as she approached him. He was standing with their host, an older man who was an old friend of her uncle's. Scott held two champagne glasses.

"I needed a breath of fresh air," she replied, fanning herself with her free hand as she accepted a glass in the other from Scott. She felt a fresh breeze caress her back and cast a furtive glance back towards the terrace doors hoping the two men would not emerge…thankfully, the couple from the stairs entered before they did. She stole a glance back to see the men go their separate ways.

"Are you feeling all right?" Scott asked with genuine concern, closing the distance between them.

"I am sorry but I am feeling tired. I have been working on my thesis." She smiled apologetically.

"Maybe we should get you home," Scott suggested, attempting to wrap a supportive arm around her shoulders. She stepped away. The last thing she needed was another lecture coming from her mother on her decorum. "Alison?"

"I'm fine, just a little tired." She responded, noting an approving nod from an older woman. She bit her tongue before she could render a retort and wondered if she had made a mistake bringing Scott.

"Learn anything?" He glanced over his shoulder while opening the car door for her.

"Not from that fraud," she mused, stepping inside the car.

"Fraud?" Scott raised a brow and rushed around to take the driver's seat.

"The man was an imposter. His accent was flawed so I know he could not have come from where he said he did. "If it's any consolation, I did hear a rather interesting business deal. A man representing an Earl from Callendar, Scotland was negotiating a trade agreement with an Australian Major below the terrace. I figured they were much more interesting and followed their conversation. They switched to French to discuss a weapons shipment. Before the Major left, the Earl's representative placed a cellular call. The shipment's sailing out on a barge tomorrow night from a cove in Northern Scotland." She went on to give him the exact details and took note of his change in demeanor. He looked frantic.

"You're sure that's everything?" Scott pressed, starring at her directly in the eyes.

"Scott, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I have to get you back." He replied hurriedly and started the car. She grabbed his hand, blocking him from the gear stick before they could move.

"What the hell is going on?" She pushed, clearly annoyed by his odd behavior.

"Nothing---"

"Don't lie to me, Scott."

"It's nothing. I got a big day tomorrow. I have to---" He saw Major Bludd in his rear view mirror, standing outside, waiting for his driver and paused.

"Fine, I'll just call a hack..." Alison snapped and reached over to unlock her door.

Scott grabbed her wrist, pulling her back sharply so she had no choice but to face him. "Don't!" He snapped. She fought him, pulling her wrist back.

"Let go of me, now!" She hissed, bringing up her free hand to claw his hand to release hers when she couldn't pull free. He deftly caught her hand, turning it back.

"Alison, listen to me…" He sounded desperate and the look in his eyes softened, but not his grasp. He wasn't letting go.

"You're hurting me."

"Just wait…let me explain." He pulled her closer, blocking her face from Bludd's car and shielding his own with his arm as Bludd drove past. He sighed a deep breath and loosened his hold. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What the bloody hell is going on? Who the hell was that?" She yelled at him.

"I need you to talk to someone." Scott gulped. He had no idea she would run into Major Bludd. "Come with me, please?" She gave him a skeptical look. "Alison?"

"What's going on?" She asked, again, dreading the look in his eyes as he reached to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet and badge to show her.

"Scott Mullens, Central Intelligence Agency. You bastard!" She hissed, drawing her hand back to slap him. He caught it in his hand.

"Alison."

"Did my parents put you up to this?" She immediately regretted the question but couldn't help herself. "How many times did her father have someone or some agency follow up on her?" She reminded herself. "Well?"

"No." He answered, meeting her angry glare.

"Then who damn it?"

"Come with me and I'll explain. I don't work for your father. We need your help." He said, showing her his badge once more. "The two men you heard are major players." She paused a moment and thought.

"You wanted me to follow those other two men and listen in on their conversation. Why?"

"We wanted to see how good you were." He bowed his head, shaking it in disbelief. "I never would have sent you out there if I had known the Major was out there."

A few calls confirmed Alison had discovered Destro's latest weapons shipment to COBRA. Scott and his supervisor had aggressively pursued her from that moment forward. The CIA desperately wanted her recruited because of her ability to grasp languages, her family connections, and their desperate need for fresh blood in her circles.

She sighed heavily recalling her several conversations with Scott just last week. She glanced back over her shoulder to the phone on her nightstand and found herself wringing her hands while she replayed their last chat in her mind. Scott had sat down beside her on a bench at a park nearby and began to fuss with his camera. He was really playing up the tourist part, rummaging his camera bag for a roll of film. He stood, ready to take her picture.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Scott asked with a chuckle, noticing her distant stare. He dropped his camera down to his side and planted his foot on the edge of the bench.

She blinked pulling herself back to her grim reality. "That's all? I told you, I don't have a choice at this point."

"Even if I guarantee we can make you disappear?" He tempted her once again even though he knew she didn't believe him.

"Right," she scoffed and leaned forward, clutching the edge of her seat tightly. "You don't understand what this means to my…"

"I never figured you for the type to roll over and…" He baited her.

"STOP!" She hissed, locking eyes with him. He knew the stubborn, haunty stare glaring back at him and smirked, instantly gaining her ire.

"You don't know a damn thing about me! If you think," she growled, forcefully poking him in the chest.

"No, I don't know. Where I come from, Mommy and Daddy don't tell me what to do." He fired back.

"Go to HELL," she spat and started to rise from the bench only to be halted by his hand firmly but cautiously grasping her upper arm.

"Don't, I'm sorry," he apologized, softening his voice. "I don't know what your parents are like. I just know how damn miserable you look. All I'm saying is, if you want to leave I can help."

"No, just go… please." She avoided his eyes, glancing away to a nearby fountain.

Scott sighed heavily and loosened his grip on her arm. "Fine, but here, take this." He pressed his business card into her palm. "If you should change your mind…"

She watched him leave. She let him walk off without another word.

Alison shook her head and walked over to her nightstand, opening the drawer she pulled out her day planner and reached for the card, running her fingers over the edges. Up until this moment, she believed if she had delayed this day, as long as possible she might be able to escape it. "I can't do this," she choked, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "Why can't they understand…why won't they try?" She bit her lower lip as her eyes fell to the floor brimming with unshed tears as she recalled her return from Trinity. Her mother hadn't asked her anything but rather told her rather pointedly that she had reserved the church and the country club for the 17th, a month to the day she graduated. All the arrangements had been made sans her consent.

Still, Alison had tried her best to talk to her parents to make them understand this was marriage would be a huge mistake, but they kept telling her that she should be pleased with Michael for a husband. Her parents had a similar engagement and did well together; besides, Alison and Michael had known each other for years. They could build on their friendship. Alison had been raised to follow her parents' dictates and had always done as she was told. Well, she did until she left for school.

Talking to Michael had not been successful either; he laughed at her and asked her if she was joking when she asked him what he thought of canceling the wedding.

"I tried," Alison cried to herself, wiping away a tear that had escaped. She knew what she had to do and pulled her engagement ring off her hand before wrestling her way out of her cumbersome gown. Donning a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt along with her favorite pair of Keds, she hurried to pack a knap sack she used while hiking. "God, I hate heights," she groaned as she leaned on the open sash of her window. "Then again," she reasoned, weighing her options. Her dread at the thought of marrying Michael far outweighed her fear of heights." She swung her leg over and grabbed onto the trellis for support before shimmying down.

"Let's go, girl," she whispered to herself as she landed outside her father's library window. She crouched low at the sound of her mother's voice fussing over her father's tuxedo and swallowed a knot forming in her throat. "I'm sorry," she choked a whisper and slipped away from the window and her home, willing herself not to look back for fear she'd change her mind.

Alison raced to catch the last ferry. Once on board, she lost herself in the tourists and waited. She'd call Scott once she was on the mainland.


	2. Nowhere to Run

_Disclaimers: See chapter 1._

_**Chapter Two Nowhere to Run...**_

They were sitting close together, Flint's fingers linked in hers as he leaned forward to whisper above the violinists strolling past their table. "Let me get the check, so we can get out of here." Lady Jaye sighed softly as he lifted her hand, lightly brushing a kiss to her palm before he stood from the cozy table they shared in the corner of the restaurant.

"Alison?" She paled at the sight of a short, dark haired woman approaching their table. "I thought it was you. My God, it's been four years since..."

"Melissa, it's wonderful to see you. It's been too long. Oh, I'm sorry." Lady Jaye caught Flint's perplexed stare. "Melissa, this is Dash. Dash...Melissa, we went to Bryn Mawr together." Attempting to control the situation at hand, Lady Jaye glanced between the two and rushed. "Dash, would you mind giving us a moment? I need to speak with Melissa alone. I'll explain later, please?" She smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

"I have to check with the hotel, if you'll excuse me ladies." He nodded and left but not before leaning over to lightly kiss Lady Jaye. Glancing over his shoulder, he observed Melissa, sliding into his seat.

"Alison, he's gorgeous. Where did you meet him? He's better looking than Michael. That reminds me...your father's still calling me each month to find out where you are. He said Michael wants you back." Melissa let an exasperated sigh escape as she shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to…"

"I couldn't go through with it," Lady Jaye cut her off unable to look her directly in the eye. She lowered her gaze to her hands, wringing them over one another in her quest to find the right words, the right answer. "Melissa, please tell my dad you haven't seen me. You know why I can't go home. As for Michael," she paused, looking up at Flint across the room. "If you should see him, please tell him I wish him well; but, I'm not part of a business deal."

"What about tall, dark, and handsome over there?" Melissa grinned, eagerly following Lady Jaye's gaze over to where Flint stood making his call.

"Dash is the best part of my life. Please don't mention Michael or the family around him. He doesn't know and I'd prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible," Lady Jaye pleaded, leaning forward to place her hands to her temples. She shifted her eyes over to Flint returning and quickly regained he composure. She smiled brightly to him. "If you'll excuse me, it looks like we've got to go."

"Ready so soon?" Flint grinned, watching her scoot her chair back. The waiter was following him with the check.

"I thought we had other plans." A mischievous glint played through her eyes.

"Ah...yes," he cleared his throat. "Lady, you read my mind." He grinned, settling the bill.

"It was nice to see you, Melissa." She reached across patting her friend's hand.

"I'll call you the next time I'm in town..."

"Promise?" Melissa raised a brow.

"Yes." Lady Jaye chuckled, watching Melissa stand to leave. "I promise."

As she walked to her table, Melissa turned back to watch Flint assist her from her seat. She noticed his arm was wrapped about her waist and smiled at the sight of her friend leaning comfortably into his embrace with an air of contentment she had never seen. An audible sigh escaped her lips when she saw them pause at the door for a moment. Alison had a glow about her when she looked at him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Flint murmured in her ear, pulling her closer to him in the darkened taxi. She was staring intently out the window. "I hear the monument's for sale real cheap." He scowled at her indecipherable reply. "Alison, sweetheart, talk to me." He growled, gently shaking her arm.

"Hmmm?" She shook her head, turning to face him. "I'm sorry, did you say something, Dash?" Lady Jaye snuggled closer to Flint.

"Do you want to talk about it, honey?"

"I'm sorry. It's been so long since I saw Melissa...it wasn't a happy occasion," she glanced back towards the window.

"What happened?" He curled his hand, gently tucking it beneath her chin to tilt her face up to his.

"I had a huge fight with my parents and left home. I haven't seen them since and each time I call home it turns into a shouting match." She grumbled, spying the hotel entrance ahead of them. "You know something?" She reached up for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I have a much better idea...can we please forget my family for awhile?" She nestled her head into his shoulder.

"All right," he relented, wrapping his arm more securely around her. He heard her contented sigh and grinned, looking up at the door of the hotel. "We're here..."

Unbeknownst to Lady Jaye, a private detective had picked up a tip that she was staying at the Rembrandt Hotel. Matt Amberly was the latest in a long string of private detectives hired by her father and Michael to find her.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for an Alison Hart-Burnett." He leaned over the concierge's desk, presenting her engagement picture.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not at liberty to divulge the names of our guests," the concierge politely dismissed his attempt without looking at the picture.

"Are you sure? I was told that Ms. Hart-Burnett was staying here." Matt withdrew a money clip from his inside jacket pocket. "It's rather urgent that I find her. You see, her father is looking for her. If you catch my meaning?" He winked suggestively, sliding a c-note across the desk..

"You know," the concierge shifted his eyes across the lobby, "I was a bit rushed before." He accepted the picture from Matt and smiled with an avarice gleam in his eyes. "You just missed her by 10 minutes."

"Where did she go?"

"Upstairs." The concierge gestured towards the elevators and reached out to pluck the c-note up.

"Which room?" Matt held onto the c-note for a moment, taunting the concierge and shifting his eyes towards the computer.

"Just a minute...room 912." The concierge replied, greedily accepting the bribe.

A few minutes later, Matt found himself standing outside the room, wrapping on the door. No one answered. "I know she's there." He fumed impatiently and wrapped louder without receiving a reply. Turning back at the sound of footsteps behind him, he observed a maid entering another room. He mused, waiting for her to reemerge from the room. "Excuse me," he called out, startling her. "My wife left her jacket inside and I can't find my key." He lied, patting his pockets down for effect. "Could you let me in?"

"No, you'll have to check with the front desk." The maid answered and hurried past him to the elevator, leaving him standing outside the door.

"You know, I probably shouldn't have checked in." She smirked humorously, slipping her shoes off as she crossed the room to the stereo. Hearing the sound of a faint knock on the door, her eyes lit up. "Dash, room service is here. I ordered something light." She sighed heavily, tuning the dial to a soft music station.

"What did you order?" Flint raised a brow at the tray the attendant rolled into the room past him.

"Just dessert." She walked over to him, running her fingertips lightly over his shoulders while he signed the attendant's ledger.

"Thanks pal," he snorted, catching the attendant's eyes roaming over Lady Jaye. He pressed the tip into his open palm before shoving him to the hall.

"Dash?" She growled softly. "What's the matter?"

"He was practically undressing you with his eyes," he grumbled, closing the door.

"And that bothers you?" She raised a brow.

"You know that bothers me," he growled, pulling her into his arms. He bent his fingers in slightly, placing it beneath her chin to lift her face up to his.

"You know Dash, you have no reason to be jealous," she squirmed free of his grasp as he lowered his mouth to hers.

"Ali…son," he groaned, watching her spin on her toes towards the dessert cart. Lifting the dessert tray with great flourish, she waved her free hand to the champagne flask. "I thought that since we're technically off duty until tomorrow night we could have something a little stronger to go with these." She winked, revealing a bowl of strawberries with crème Brule on the side.

"I'll open bottle." He strained, struggling with the cork while she held two champagne flutes in her hand.

With a loud pop, the cork flew past Lady Jaye's ear, forcing her to duck. She giggled. "Hey, watch where you're aiming."

"Allow me, milady." He grinned, taking the flutes from her. He nearly overfilled the first glass as he watched her dip a strawberry into the Brule. Bringing it to her lips, she locked eyes with his as she took her first bite. The juice lightly staining her lips, she traced the tip of her tongue over them before taking a sip from her flute.

She waited for him to take a sip from his flute. Setting hers down on the table, she reached for his hand, removing the flute and setting it on the table beside hers. Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she leaned up to kiss him. He followed her lead, moving his tongue to meet hers as she deepened the kiss. She moaned, hearing a deep growl emanating from the back of his throat. His arms pulled her closer to him while she pushed back, unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingertips brushed over his chest like a feather.

"When do we have to leave?" He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them as he guided her closer to him.

"By noon, why? Do you want to leave now?" She winked, tilting her face up to his.

"Hell, no," he growled, sweeping her up in his arms. He began to kiss her softly, carrying her to the bed. Setting her down, he stood back to remove the rest of his shirt. A frowned creased his brow, watching her sit up with her hands behind her.

"Come here," she raised a crooked finger, motioning towards herself. He cast her a lopsided grin as he crawled on to the bed, leaning above her.

"Yes, milady?" His voice deep and husky. That was all he had to say, the next thing he knew, she was pushing him over onto his back.

"Dash?" He heard her softly call his name. She was curled up beside him, tracing her fingertips through the hairs on his chest, down to his stomach.

"Hmm?" He sighed, stopping her hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the inside of her palm.

"Don't ever forget how much I love you?" She murmured, drifting off to sleep.

"Hmm?" She'd caught him off guard with that reminder. "Allie?" He frowned, brushing a kiss over her brow. He dropped one arm behind his head, leaving the other to hold her to him. "Why won't you tell me what's bothering you?" He whispered softly, watching her snuggle closer to his side. He stared up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

Sleep eluded him as his thoughts took him back to Christmas with his parents in Wichita. He gazed down at the sleeping woman beside him.

"Dash?" His mother, Rose, had rushed onto the front porch of the large farmhouse they'd renovated. "Joe, Dash is home," she yelled over to the horse barn. She watched her son with some trepidation as he leaned against the passenger side door. "Dashiell Robert Faireborn, what in heaven's name are you up to?" She placed her hands on her hips, waiting for his father to appear.

"Me? What makes you think I'm up to something?" He gave her a lopsided-grin, folding his arms over his chest.

"Dash, what are you up to, son?" His father called out, approaching them.

"Dash, let me out of this car," a muffled voice ruined his surprise.

"Dashiell?" His mother's eyes widened, stepping down from the porch. She reached for his arm, pulling him to the side.

"Now, wait just a minute...I finally come home for a visit and you throw me to the side?" He complained, blocking his mother from seeing into the car, he placed his hand on the door handle. "I told you I was bringing an Army buddy home for the holidays, didn't I?" He winked to his mother, opening the door and holding out his hand to Lady Jaye.

"You said a buddy, not, your girlfriend." Joe watched Lady Jaye step out of the car.

"Alison...Allie. This is my mom and dad." He grinned, introducing her as he stepped to the side.

"Alison?" His mom's face lit up with a warm smile. She welcomed Alison with a loving embrace while his Dad watched him carefully.

"Dash, take her bags up to the guest room," Joe nodded towards the house before stepping forward to greet her. "My son was a little short with the introductions it seems." He raised a brow towards Flint. "I'm Joe and this is Rose."

Flint shifted further down into his pillow, stroking her hair from her face as other memories came to him.

"Allie, honey, do you need to call your parents?" Rose brushed her hands over her apron, looking up at her. Flint was standing in the doorway quietly watching them.

"Ah...no, they're traveling." She lied. He noticed traces of sadness in those beautiful green eyes of hers.

"That's a shame." His mother sighed, reaching for a tray of pies to set in the oven. She glanced up to see her son watching them and looked back at Lady Jaye. "Dash, why don't you take Allie for a ride... after she cleans up a bit." He suppressed a laugh, noticing the flour smeared across her cheek and her hands.

"I guess I'm not cut out for the kitchen," Lady Jaye laughed, touching his nose with her floured hand.

He pulled her closer to him, listening to her shallow breathing. A smile formed over her lips. He sighed, closing his eyes, recalling his dad entering the barn.

"Dash...Allie, dinner's ready!" Joe Faireborn scanned the paddock, seeing the saddles still in place but the blankets were missing. "Now, where did he put those..." He heard a faint giggle and noticed a few pieces of straw drifting down from the loft. "DASH!"

"Damn," Flint hissed in her ear.

"Great...you and your bright ideas," she hissed back, pushing him off her.

"I didn't hear any complaints from you at the time," he growled softly, searching for their clothes.

"Dash?" Flint heard the ladder creak.

"I'll be right down, Dad!" He rushed his reply, fumbling around for their clothes. He quickly tossed a blouse to her and grabbed his pants. He heard his father step away from the ladder.

"Make sure you bring Allie with you," Joe replied with a humorous smirk in his voice.

He yawned, closing his eyes ready for sleep as one of the last memories of the Christmas holiday came to him.

"Dash, pass that one over to Allie." Rose pointed to a gift behind him.

"Oh...Rose, you shouldn't have," Lady Jaye's went wide as he placed the small but heavy gift box into her hands. He gave his mother a quizzical stare, turning to see Lady Jaye's astonished expression give way to laughter.

"A cook book! That's the most original, thoughtful, wonderful gift," she exclaimed, lifting it from the box.

"It's one I've been writing for years, turn to the back," Rose stood from her seat, kneeling down beside her. Watching a look of amazement from the younger woman, she laughed. "There's a few of his favorites I wrote down," Rose said, glancing towards Flint with an alarmed expression etched on his face.

"And for you," his father's voice broke his shock. "Dash, open this...I figured while your mom was adding to the cookbook for Allie. This was the least I could do," he grinned, catching a mixture of embarrassment and relief wash over his son's face.

"What is it?" Lady Jaye set her book down, leaning over to see what he had.

"Ah...nothing," Flint gulped hiding the book behind his back.

"Nothing, huh?" She caught his parents staring at one another with a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Dash, let me see," she leaned back, snatching the book from his hands or trying to.

"Allie, give it back." They ended up in a tug of war over the book in question.

"No way," she groaned, tugging harder. A smirk twitched the corners of her mouth. She slid a glance side to side before suddenly releasing her hold on the book. He fell back with a thud, loosening his grasp. She had it in a flash, standing above him. "Let's see...oh my..." She blushed, reading the title of the book in her hands -- HOW NOT TO GET CAUGHT. Shifting her eyes towards his father, Alison's face reddened. "Sorry, hon," she choked, handing the book back to Flint.

He smiled down at her as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. He raked his hand over his face. He mused, drifting off to sleep.

"That's him." The maid pointed to Matt Amberly, leaning against the wall outside room 912.

"Sir, I'm the hotel's security chief and I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the guard warned, flashing his identification.

"But...I... hey, put me down," Matt protested, feeling the guard drag him from the wall.

"Sir, you're not registered in that room. Your identification please," he demanded, presenting his open hand.

"I must have the wrong room." Matt shrugged, turning away from the man.

"No, try the wrong hotel, pal. You're leaving, now." The security chief grabbed him by the arm, dragging him behind him to the elevator where three other security men stood. Within minutes, Matt was forcefully ejected out the front doors.

"I'll inform the front desk to alert Ms. Hart-Burnett that she may have a stalker," the security chief stated, walking inside.

"Mmmm." Flint felt her weight shift across his chest as she reached for the phone.

"Time to get up, Sleepyhead." She yawned, settling back beside him.

"Five more minutes." She heard him grumble.

"Fine, you take your five. I'm going to hit the shower." Lady Jaye sighed, nibbling his neck. "Check my messages, please?" She nuzzled his ear, lightly before getting out of bed.

She heard him swearing under his breath as she opened the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. She tilted her head to the side, studying him before announcing her presence.

"Dash, honey, what's wrong?" Alarm filled her voice, observing him pause. Nostrils flaring, he growled. "I finished checking your messages and hotel security wants to see you about a stalker trying to get in your room last night. I'm going to find out what's going on and handle your check out."

"Dash, wait." She rushed to stop him at the door, nearly dropping the towel. I'll call down and check out over the phone. You check out as you normally would. No one saw me go upstairs. It's probably some sort of mistake. If it will make you feel better, I still have the disguise I used on the mission. I'll wear it when we leave."

"I don't like this," he fumed, feeling her hands cradling his face. "All right...let me get a quick shower, and we'll get out of here." He sighed heavily. "You know, I can't help worrying about you sometimes."

"I know, that's one of the things I love about you." She leaned up to him, brushing a kiss over his lips. "Go on and get your shower while I get my disguise out."

"Has Ms. Hart-Burnett checked out?" Matt leaned across the desk, asking the concierge from the previous night.

"Look, pal, you've caused enough trouble around here. I'm getting off in 15 minutes." He groaned.

"C'mon, there's a lot more than that $100 from last night if I find her," Matt pleaded.

"I wish I could help you but she's gone. She checked out by phone this morning."

"Let me have the key to her room...you said she's not there, right?" Matt raised a brow, pushing another c-note across the desk.

"All right."

Entering the elevator, he passed Flint and Lady Jaye in disguise as a blonde, wearing tinted sunglasses and a teal colored coatdress.

"There's a line." Flint murmured in her ear.

"I'll wait over there." She squeezed his shoulder, nodding to a group of sofas adjacent to the desk. She settled herself on one sofa, removing a magazine from her bag to read while she waited.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Matt approached her.

She lowered her magazine, glancing past him to see Flint studying them.

"Yes?" She looked back to Matt.

"I'm looking for a young woman and I was wondering if you might have seen her?" He presented her engagement picture to her. She suppressed an urge to balk, seeing herself with Michael.

"Ah...no, I don't believe I have. No wait, I nearly forgot. My husband and I ran into her briefly yesterday in the workout room. She told me about a sightseeing tour this afternoon. I was going to go, but my husband and I have to go home early... I really wanted to go. If you have a card or something I'd be willing to call you if I do see her," a deep southern accent adorned her speech.

"All checked out." Flint approached the pair. "Are you ready, sweetheart?" He offered his hand to help her stand. Looking at Matt, he narrowed his eyes. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all, Mr...ah...I'm sorry I didn't catch you're name," she replied, tilting her head towards Matt and shaking her finger.

"Matt Amberly," he reached into his jacket pocket, removing a business card, "I was just asking your wife if she might have seen this young woman." He handed Flint the business card along with the engagement picture.

Lady Jaye quickly spoke up to distract Matt. "I was just telling Mr. Amberly that we saw her in the workout room last night but I haven't seen her since, have you?"

"I thought she said something about catching an early flight out of Dulles." Flint frowned, placing his arm around her waist as he looked at the photo.

"Thanks for your help. If you should see her, please give me a call. Her father and fiancé are looking for her." Mr. Amberly shook hands with Flint and bowed his head towards Lady Jaye before hurrying out of the lobby.

When he was out of sight, Flint broke his silence. "Ok, so why doesn't your dad just call you? Better yet, why didn't you tell me about YOUR fiancé?"

"It's complicated, and I DON'T have a fiancé." She hissed under her breath and turned for the door.

"Alison?" Flint growled, stopping her with his hand on her elbow. She broke free, walking to the rental car. Flint noticed several people standing close by and relented.

They were headed to catch a MAC flight out of Andrews Air Force Base when Flint broke the silence. "Alison, are you going to tell me why your father and fiancé have to hire a private investigator to find you?" Flint grumbled, shifting his eyes towards her.

"You want to know?" She raised her voice sharply. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." He caught her slumping her shoulders forward in defeat, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Allie?" His voice was calm, pleading for her to tell him.

She sighed heavily. "We had a fight before I left home...or rather before I ran away...I broke my engagement to his best friend's son. They don't know I'm in the Army and my father wouldn't approve if he did know." She felt a firm, but gentle squeeze on her hands, urging her to continue. "I wanted my own life since Bryn Mawr, but my father wouldn't listen...he had other plans for me."

"When I came home for Christmas of my senior year, we argued over Michael. They'd been shoving us together every chance they got." She shook her head slowly, closing her eyes. "He told me he wouldn't push Michael at me until after Trinity...as long as I kept an open mind. I thought I'd won that round."

"Round?"

"Well ...round one." She shuddered. "During the Christmas toast, my father raised his glass to toast me on my engagement...the next thing I knew everyone was around me and Michael was slipping a ring on my finger." She growled. "Round 2 may have went to Daddy but I stayed at Trinity for the next two years and avoided the family like the plague." She watched his jaw tense.

"Why did he want you to marry Michael?"

"Business, Dash...the old fashion way of combining business interests," she groaned, sinking into her seat as he hit the brakes, bringing the car to a stop on the side of the road.

He stared at her a moment, searching for his voice, reigning in his anger.

"He wanted to use me to close a business merger and I refused." She sighed heavily. "Love had nothing to do with it." She lifted her eyes to his. "For as long as I can remember, my father and Nathan Shepard have dreamed of merging the companies but neither wants to turn control over to the other. Michael works for my father's New York office."

"Why didn't you tell Michael you didn't want to marry him?" Flint fumed.

"Tell him...oh, believe me, I told him. I told him repeatedly. He laughed...told me to stop joking. Dash, they refused to take me seriously. I came home from Trinity to find that my mother had the entire wedding ready a month to the day I graduated. She had sent the invitations out, picked the dresses, the gown, the caterer...everything," she snapped, turning her head to the side. "They wouldn't listen," she softly choked back a sob threatening to escape, "I couldn't go through with it. The day of the wedding, I sent Melissa and the rest of my bridesmaids out of my room an hour before I was to leave for the church. I took the ring off, changed my clothes, and climbed out my bedroom window. I never looked back. Each time I call home, my dad reminds me what a disappointment I am to him and that Michael is waiting. It's been four years and that's all I am---a disappointment to him."

"Allie?" He gently lifted her chin to lock eyes with her, studying her carefully. He thought about what she'd said and pulled her closer to him as he tried to reassure her, "You're not a disappointment, your parents are. You're bright, beautiful, fun to be around, and the sexiest woman I've ever laid eyes on. We'll get through this and figure out a way to handle your parents. We have to tell Hawk about the private investigator."

"What are you going to tell him? Ah, sir, some stalker was trying to break into Lady Jaye's room while she was in bed with me. Dash, you can't, Beach Head will have a field day with this if he gets wind of it. Hawk's already watching us after the last debate you and Beach Head had over regulations," she panicked.

"I'll tell him that you called to check your messages and a maid had reported a possible stalker trying to get into your room while we were out. Not knowing if it was a mistake or something more serious, you ended up staying in my room because the man could not be located. Hawk knows the hotel was booked and that we just wrapped up a dangerous mission. None of the others would leave Shana or Courtney on their own if it happened to them -- and you know it," Flint reasoned.

"You're right," she agreed, looking at the time. "Dash, we're going to miss our flight."


	3. Facing a Long Road Home

**Disclaimers: See Chapter 1.**

_**Chapter Three Facing a Long Road Home**_

The plane was filled to capacity; not one empty seat could be found. "Hey, remember me?" Flint gently squeezed Lady Jaye's hand in his, urging her to confide in him. His voice was low so as not to draw attention to them, he leaned closer to her, dismissing the stares of the passenger seated across the aisle from him.

"I'm sorry, Dash," she whispered, lowering her gaze to her hand in his. "I need to think...DC was too close for comfort." A sudden jolt caused her to jump as the passenger behind her shifted, bumping her seat to the upright position.

"Do you mind?" Flint released her hand to loom over the back of his seat, glaring at a sergeant behind seated behind them. He rested one hand on the seat, crushing the headrest with it.

"Dash." Lady Jaye reached up, grasping his arm to pull him back. "It was an accident, please, sit down."

"Sorry, sir," the sergeant squeaked as Flint settled back down, his leg brushing against hers. He focused his attention back to her.

"You know you can tell me anything?" He prompted.

"Dash?" She bit her lower lip, tucking the corner under before pausing. The sounds of children complaining to their parents interrupted her. "Can we talk after we land?" Her eyes beseeched.

"All right, I'll go check with the pilot to see how much longer we have," he acquiesced, standing from his seat. Tossing his jacket onto the empty seat behind him, he stared down at her. "Allie?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, drawing her eyes up to his.

"Don't worry." He bowed his head down, murmuring in her ear. His warm breath caressed her cheek, bringing a warm smile to her face.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him before she lifted a magazine from her carry-on to read. She paused momentarily to watch him navigate his way to the front of the plane. Glancing back to the magazine she held in her hand, she inadvertently opened up to the feature article, "Homes on the Vineyard." Closing it immediately, she shoved it back into her carry-on, fuming at herself for not noticing her error. She'd snatched the wrong magazine from the stand. "Come on, Allie, get it together," she chided herself, settling her gaze on the small window near her seat.

Flint studied her from the doorway of the cockpit. His hand resting on the latch to enter the passenger area, he hesitated. A small boy approached her, nudging her leg to gain her attention.

"Benjamin!" His mother scurried over to them. "Leave the lady alone...I'm so sorry. He's only 4." The woman gushed, gathering her son in her arms.

"But momma, I just wanted to see the clouds," he squirmed. Flint gaped, listening to Lady Jaye's words. A tender smile graced her lips for the child as she leaned forward in her seat.

"I like clouds, too." She laughed softly. "He's more than welcome to stay."

"If you're sure?" The mother quizzed, setting the child down on the floor.

"Please...these flights are boring enough for us. He's got to be stir crazy." Lady Jaye shifted her gaze from the boy to Flint who was still standing by the cockpit door. "Besides, the cockpit's awfully crowded with the big boys. C'mon." She smiled, lifting the boy to her lap. "He'll be fine."

It wasn't long before Benjamin settled down to his cloud gazing. Lady Jaye found herself lost in her own thoughts.

The arguments rambled on in her mind as she recalled those last days.

"Allie, you can't be serious...work?" Her father's booming laugh filled the study. "Now, I know you did remarkably well at Trinity but be reasonable. You're marrying Michael in a few days. Enjoy married life." He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "If you really want something to do, help your mother with her charity work."

"Daddy, about Michael," she interrupted from the plump leather chair she sat in across from his desk.

"Fine boy...he's perfect for you." Jonathan beamed with pride.

"He's not...please, don't make me go through with this," she begged.

"You know, you're mother and I started out just like you and Michael." He grinned widely, glancing towards the door as it slowly opened.

"But..."

"Alison, dear, it's time for your fitting." Ellen entered with Jessica Shepard.

"Daddy?" She sought a reprieve but found none. Her mother and Jessica practically dragged her from the room to the seamstress.

She sighed.

"The pilot says 30 minutes." Flint slid into his seat. "Sound asleep?" He grinned at the little boy lying against her chest. She nodded yes, brushing her fingers through Benjamin's hair. "I'll get his mom." Flint stood up, scanning the cabin. The boy's mother started to stand when Flint put his finger to his mouth, nodding down towards Lady Jaye.

"I'll be right there," the woman softly spoke. "He's asleep," the mother cooed, kneeling down to lift her son. Flint observed Lady Jaye shift the small child into his mother's arms without waking him. "He wasn't too much trouble, was he?"

"No, not at all." Lady Jaye stroked the top of his head. "He's adorable." She whispered. She watched the mother and child, following them with her eyes back to their seat before settling back into her's. "What?" She felt Flint's eyes on her.

"Nothing." He shrugged his shoulders, suppressing a grin. "We're landing shortly then we have to figure out how to handle your father and fiancé."

"Michael's not my fiancé," she growled, catching a smirk edging his mouth.

* * *

Flint and Lady Jaye headed to their quarters at opposite ends of the barracks to drop their gear and change into their uniforms before attending a debriefing with Hawk and Duke.

Flint was the first to arrive at Hawk's office and waited with the others for Lady Jaye to appear. She sat as he delivered the debriefing to them, waiting for him to tell Hawk about Matt Amberly.

"Well done, Flint and Lady Jaye." Hawk nodded approvingly, observing his warrant officer's eyes leveled on Lady Jaye. "Flint, is there something you haven't told me?" He narrowed his eyes on him, realizing Lady Jaye had been too quiet during the debriefing.

"Hotel security reported a stalker outside of Lady Jaye's room."

"Lady Jaye?" Hawk whipped his head around to face her. "Any idea who was outside your room? How did you get away from him?"

"The hotel was booked. She stayed in my room," Flint broke in, feeling the general's stinging glare on him.

Hawk's jaw was set as he looked at them. Duke was the first to speak.

"Do you have any idea who it was hanging outside your room?" Duke looked at Lady Jaye, concern laden his voice.

"I believe it was a private investigator hired by my father," she finally replied, meeting Hawk's inquisitive stare.

"Lady Jaye, why would your father have someone looking for you?" Hawk drummed his fingers on the table.

"I left home four years ago after a huge fight. He doesn't know I joined the Army and he wouldn't approve if he did. It's simply not an acceptable career choice for me in his eyes, sir. I have called him several times in the past few years, and each call has ended in a shouting match," she answered as she had been rehearsing all day in her head, her tone level and matter of fact.

"Can't the two of you resolve your differences without him taking these extreme measures?" Hawk pressed.

"No, sir, it's not that easy. I refused to do something he wanted me to do." She started to say when Duke chortled. All eyes transferred to him.

"Sorry, it wouldn't be the first time I heard that." Duke cleared his throat, noticing the scowl on Flint's face as he moved to stand behind her, protectively. "What exactly did you refuse to do that has him so angry with you, Lady Jaye?"

"I ran out on my wedding." She mumbled under her breath, rushing each word.

"You did what?" Hawk and Duke's jaws dropped as they asked in unison.

"Four years ago, my parents wanted me to marry the son of my dad's best friend. I caved into the engagement just to get them to leave me alone. I tried to break the engagement but my mother, father, Michael, and his parents wouldn't listen so I ran out on the wedding an hour before I was supposed to leave for the church. I never looked back." She sighed, slumping her shoulders. Flint's hand gently squeezed her shoulder, urging her on to tell the rest.

"I changed out of my gown and left a note before I climbed out of my bedroom window. I caught the last ferry off of Martha's Vineyard and had a recruiter pick me up. You know the rest from my personnel files."

She waited a few minutes for someone to say something. Suddenly, Hawk started to laugh, resting his hand against the bridge of his nose. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm remembering something I heard about this ill fated wedding of yours. It just came to me. I was in DC about that time and one of the Senator's I was meeting with told me about Michael Shepard's fiancée leaving him at the altar." Hawk leaned forward in his seat locking eyes with her. "You left a church full of some of the most powerful financiers and politicians in the country, as well as, the society set waiting on you... while you climbed out a window and ran?" He raised a brow, watching her slowly shake her head 'yes'. "The gossips in DC had a field day with that. I can see why your parents are angry. I also know your father's not going to let this go until he finds you." Hawk grumbled, tightening his fingers around a pen.

"It wasn't as if they didn't know she didn't want to marry the guy," Flint defended.

"Well, you need to get this squared away before it compromises your position on this team. We can't have a media circus on us with this if they catch on. Did you run into anyone that could recognize you in DC?" Hawk dismissed Flint's defense, focusing once more on Lady Jaye.

"Only my old roommate from Bryn Mawr, we ran into her at a restaurant. Melissa wouldn't say a word to my parents." She leaned back in her chair, looking up at Flint who continued.

"We sent the private investigator off on a wild goose chase to Dulles while we got away. She used a disguise from the mission to conceal herself. I sent him to the airport saying that I heard Ms. Hart-Burnett mention something about catching a flight."

"Good thinking, Flint, have Mainframe run a search on Alison Hart-Burnett. We need to know how much is out there on Lady Jaye and figure out a way to control this. Lady Jaye, your dismissed but I still need to speak with Flint." Hawk leaned forward, resting on one elbow.

She left them to continue the meeting and headed back to her quarters.

"Flint, did you know about any of this before the incident at the hotel?" Duke spoke first.

"No, I didn't know she had been engaged before Amberly flashed the picture in front of me." He suppressed the growl from his voice. "I didn't know exactly why she avoided the family." He fell into a chair across from Hawk. "She has valid reasons for running off."

"I'm sure she does but Jonathan Hart-Burnett isn't one to play with...the man's a financial wizard on Wall Street. He's also a major player in DC. While Mainframe's running a search, I'll place a few calls and see what can be done to stop this. I'd hate to lose her, but if we can reign in this situation fast it could blow up. I didn't want to say this in front of her, but if her father finds out she's here, her career is as good as finished."

* * *

Lady Jaye returned to her quarters. Hearing Scarlett getting ready for her watch, she collapsed onto the sofa in their common room. Leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, she rested her forehead in her hands, starring at the floor.

"Lady Jaye, are you all right? You look like hell." Scarlett sat down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder for support.

"Everything's going to fall apart," she started to say as the words came rushing out. Lady Jaye told Scarlett everything that happened in DC as well as what Hawk had said.

"You never mentioned any of this earlier. I can't believe you almost got married and didn't tell me. What did Flint say?"

"He seemed to take it well, considering how jealous he usually gets. He's being very supportive. Not brooding. I almost wish I had told him sooner." Lady Jaye sighed heavily, staring at a group picture of them on the end table.

* * *

"No, sir, it was a dead end." Matt Amberly paced his office, perusing his notes as he spoke. "I rushed to Dulles on a tip from a couple that met her at the hotel. None of the airlines had her listed on their passenger lists." He raked his free hand through his hair, starring down at a single picture of her. "I know she was here...I know."

"You lost her?" Jonathan roared at him over the phone. "You had a solid lead she was there. Did you check the hotel security tapes to see if she was there?"

"No, I...ah... didn't think of that," Matt faltered.

"Get over there and get those tapes, now!" Jonathan hollered, smashing the receiver down.

* * *

Mainframe was one step ahead of them by sending Dialtone, who was in DC wrapping another assignment, to the hotel.

Posing as a security expert hired by the hotel's main office to review the stalker incident, he approached the front desk. "I was sent to oversee the tapes from the other night." He quickly flashed his badge to the concierge. "You can't be too...ah...careful with stalkers." He set his clipboard with dummy forms on the counter. "I'll need all the tapes." He waited while the manager approached. After examining Dialtone's credentials, he led him to his office where Dialtone spent the next several hours scanning the tapes and deleting segments of Lady Jaye.

Dialtone groaned, witnessing them return from dinner in one segment. Flint's arm was around her waist. She was laughing and smiling as if he were the only man in the world. He growled, fighting back a twinge of jealousy. He stood to leave the room, gathering his things when he looked up spying the hall cameras. "Aw...Gawd," he muttered to himself, sitting down to the terminal once again. "Nearly forgot the elevator and hall," Dialtone quickly cued up the tapes, fast-forwarding to the hall outside her room. "Nothing?" He scratched his head, returning to the tape of them returning from dinner. "I'll be...she never w...went to her room," he gulped, observing her kissing Flint in the elevator. Flint's arms roamed over her back. He erased the elevator footage and slipped in the tape from Flint's hall. Carefully scanning the footage, he deleted her entering the first time after check in, leaving the room for dinner, and her return. He sighed, wiping his brow as he caught her leaving the next morning with him in disguise. With a few more keystrokes, he hacked into the main system, deleting all traces of her and Flint registering. Alison Hart-Burnett and Dashiell Faireborn were never guests at the Rembrandt.

"Thanks, pal," Dialtone waved, passing Matt at the desk. Once he was clear, he flipped open a cell phone. "It's all...ah...cleared." He glanced back, watching Matt with the concierge.

"C'mon, I just need to see the tapes." Matt bribed his way past the desk only to find nothing on the doctored tapes. "How could she simply disappear?" He muttered to himself, recognizing a new attendant at the desk. "Excuse me?" He fumbled with the picture in his pocket. "I was wondering if you might have seen this woman." He handed the picture to the man, noticing a grin spreading across his face.

"Her hair was a lot shorter, but it's definitely the woman I saw the other night She was a real looker with a great body. I remember she was wearing a short, dark green dress. The guy she was with...um...definitely wasn't going to let her out of his sight." He grinned wider. "Lucky bas...ah...lucky guy. I suggested they try Armand's around the corner for dinner."

"Was she a guest here?" Matt pressed, tapping the picture.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was. I saw them leave and watched them take the elevator upstairs. The guy had his arm around her when they came in... they headed upstairs about an hour before I got off."

"Thanks, I owe you big time." Matt thumped his hand on the desk before hurrying off to Armand's.

* * *

"Jonathan Hart-Burnett," the gregarious voice greeted him as the secretary patched him through to the private line.

"Mr. Hart- Burnett, Matt Amberly," he gulped. "She was spotted with a dark haired man in the lobby the other night. I've checked the hotel records and a restaurant. There's no trace of her anywhere...it's like she's disappeared."

"DISAPPEARED!" Jonathan slammed his fists down on the table, leaning over the speakerphone. "You had a solid lead on her...the first in 3 years and you LOST her. I'm paying you well enough, aren't I?" He snapped. "Get a list of the restaurant patrons to my secretary, ASAP!"

"Ah...yes sir!" Matt sputtered.

"Then get off your bloody ass and FIND HER!" He punched the speakerphone off, glaring up at the door as it opened. "He nearly found her, Michael." He sat back, staring at the young man approaching his desk.

"You want me to fly down to DC for a few days and check around?" Michael reached back, ruffling the back of his blonde hair. His brown eyes trained on the file compiled in front of Jonathan. "I can meet with Amberly and check on the contract."

"Please." Jonathan took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling. He leaned back in his chair, watching Michael leave before he stretched for a photo. He smoothed his fingers over her smile.

* * *

"Flint, here." He lifted the radio from his belt as he paced the common room of Lady Jaye and Scarlett's quarters.

"Dialtone's on his way back. The hotel's secure." Mainframe walked to the printer, snatching up the last report. "Ah...Flint...I got the report ready."

"Thanks, Mainframe, I'll be right over." Flint clicked the radio off, snapping it back on his belt. He looked up to see Lady Jaye come out of her room. "I have to go." He turned to face her.

"Dash? I never meant for you to find out about Michael...I mean, not like this." She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I...I'm sorry." She stared down at the floor.

"We'll talk later," his voice was reassuring. Tilting her chin up to face him, he leaned forward placing his forehead to hers. "I'm not angry...all right, I was a little," he grumbled softly, feeling her pull back. He grasped her shoulders. "I love you." He slowly shook his head. "I have to see Mainframe. Wait for me?" He caressed her check with his hand before rushing out the door.

"Mainframe?" He stalked into the computer lab, spying Dialtone entering from the side door.

"I got everything you wanted." He lifted a thick file, handing it over.

"Everything, huh?" Flint scowled, turning the first page. "You didn't have to go back that far." Flint shuffled her birth certificate to the back of the file.

"Hawk said he wanted everything..."

"Thanks, Mainframe." He turned, heading off to his office with the report in hand when he bumped into Dialtone. "Dialtone?" He glared.

"I...ah...deleted everything including her entering her room," he sputtered, watching a sheepish grin form over Flint's face.

"Thanks, I owe you for that one." Flint heaved a sigh, walking off.

"Flint owes you?" Mainframe patted Dialtone on the shoulder. "What for?"

"Ah...nothing...Mainframe, nothing..."

* * *

Leaning back in his chair, Flint scanned the file, targeting in on her college years. He fumed. His eyes drank in the pictures scattered over his desk of a somber little girl, settling in on one of her sporting an arm in a sling. He frowned, instinctively turning the picture over to read the back.

"My tomboy days," a soft chuckle startled him. He had been so enthralled in reading the file he didn't notice her enter the office. "I knocked." She picked up the stack of news clippings.

"Bryn Mawr?"

"My mother's choice." She shuffled through the clippings, pulling out one in particular. "Trinity was my refuge." She set the stack down with the engagement announcement on top.

"You're hair was so long," he mused, noticing her eyes in the photo. "Why?"

"I told you why, family business...pure and simple. My dad, for all his claims of being a modern businessman, is still very much enamored with his old boys club. He picked Michael for me years ago." She shuddered. "The golden boy." She rolled her eyes. "Michael Shepard believes the world revolves around him. He drives the most expensive cars and the fastest sport boats. Michael has to have a designer wardrobe every year and surrounds himself with people that cater to him and his ego. You know, he honestly believes himself to be the heir apparent to my father as well as his father. He's not shy about telling anyone." Her shoulders slumped forward, painting a picture of Michael Shepard.

The sound of the phone ringing interrupted them. "Flint here...I'll be right there, sir," he stood, gathering the file. He studied the engagement picture one last time before closing the file. Flint slammed the file shut, heading to Hawk's office.

As Flint entered Hawk's office, he found Hawk and Duke going over other files on HB Enterprises and Shephard-Spec, the Shepard family's holding company. By the looks on their faces, it wasn't good.

"Flint, what did Mainframe come up with?" Duke asked.

"Everything on Lady Jaye prior to joining the Army, I can see why she ran," he fumed, handing the file over to Hawk. "What did you come up with?"

"I had Mainframe and Breaker pull everything on HB Enterprises, as well as Shepard-Spec. HB Enterprises is the stronger of the two and sound, but Shepard-Spec has been shaky for a while, see for yourself. Shepard-Spec needed a merger with HB to survive -- until this…" Duke passed a file to Flint.

"Michael Shepard's been busy lately," Hawk interjected, watching the warrant officer's face scrutinizing the photo.

"Extensive Enterprises?" Flint frowned, seeing a picture of Michael with Tomax and Xamot.

"Shepard-Spec has recently closed a deal with Extensive Enterprises. It looks like they're going after HB next. We've been watching Shepard-Spec and Extensive Enterprises for a while and expected something like this. We just didn't know who was next on their list until now." Duke passed another file across the table.

"Lady Jaye has to go home. We need to see what she can find out about this. I don't have to tell you what's a stake if COBRA gets into HB," Hawk paused, tracing his fingers over his legal pad. "Flint, tell Lady Jaye I need to see her ASAP and send for Cover Girl and Mainframe. She's not going in alone."


End file.
